


Your Name Is Felix

by Koruga



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Felix: really a fan of sharp pointy things, Gen, originally an AU story I modified for canon, spoilers up to Cloak and Dagger I guess, torture mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koruga/pseuds/Koruga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A headcanon-heavy story, chronicling Felix's backstory and life up to just about before Cloak and Dagger. Here we can learn about just how horrible a child he was, and just what it was he did in the Great War. (Kinda.) Originally written as backstory for an RvB AU, I rewrote the ending to fit into canon, and expanded the backstory a bit.<br/>Really would not suggest reading if you don't like offhanded mentions of murder and torture. That was sort of the reason I wrote this, along with it being a way to get my headcanons I  order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Name Is Felix

Your name is Felix Park, the third child of Catalina Rojas Park and Lucius Park. When you are six years old, for the first time in your life, you know what killing feels like. In your hands is a small squirrel, all of its skin peeled off and small slivers of wood impaled through its small paws. You read in a book about a kid who did this for fun and to get attention, and you can see now why he liked it. The thing has been alive for the past five hours, but you brought a sandwich and some orange juice, so you have plenty of time to spare.

 

Gently, you poke the chest of the squirrel. It's lukewarm. Dead. Briefly, you ponder the idea of roasting it up for a meal, but the threat of foreign diseases reminds you quickly as to why this is a bad idea. It's probably for the best.

 

Your name is Felix Park, and when you are eleven, a teacher notices a splotch of blood on the sleeve of your school uniform, belonging to your newly-dead cat. She promptly sends you to the nurse, who asks you all sorts of nice questions about how it got there, and you respond in your most tearful voice about how Billy, the nerd in your science class who tried to delete your program for cheating at Life Science, brutally slaughtered the cat with your hunting knife. Luckily, you snuck the furball's severed paws into his backpack, and so that fucker Billy got what he deserved.

 

Your name is Felix Park, and when you are sixteen, your oldest cousin drowns in a pool of water about a foot deep. Earlier that year, he had bragged about such a wonderful swimmer he was, and how badly you even floated. He kept your head underwater for thirty seconds, snorting when you came up, and asked if you wanted to learn from him. You declined politely, and four months later, when your mother wonders where all the duct tape has gone, you shrug and tell her to check her bedroom. Later that night, you remove the weights and the tape that kept him in place, and in the morning, you describe the horror you found on a morning jog to the police, terrified as can be.

 

As the year goes on, your family grows smaller and smaller. Your siblings are found with their bowels cut out, your father's head is neatly severed from his body, and your mother is in too many pieces to accurately judge who she is. Nobody finds your grandparents, nor do they find the cement truck you commandeered. It's a good year for you, at least after you skip town in your ex's car. It's time to stop causing mayhem in one little city. Besides, people have begun to get suspicious.

 

You erase your last name from the records when you're eighteen. The slaughter of the Park family has stopped being an unknown for much of the country.

 

Your name is Felix, and when you're nineteen, you join the army. Despite your lack of much background, and the two or three discrepancies in what you've professed, you are brought to the front lines of fighting, where you gain the nickname of "The Smiling Devil." As you joke to your teammates, you wonder how they can tell when nobody takes off their helmets.

 

It's eleven months until you have the misfortune of meeting Locus, the Steed of War. In your second battle together, he shoots you in the foot, and remarks that he was aiming for your head. This is roughly when you begin planning his murder.

 

Your name is Felix, and when you are twenty-one, you get a new soldier in your squadron under the name Saul Taurus. Your attempts to gain his friendship with a can of Coke go rejected, and you give him his new nickname – Pepsi Fucker. Sadly, the grunts go in his favor, and Soda Pop he is. After he retreats behind Locus for support, and the piece of shit Greenie supports him, you start looking for good drugs to knock out a seven-foot-tall man.

 

He has four months on him when you drug his fucking Pepsi and slice part of his neck off with razor wire. Unfortunately, Pop has a remarkably strong neck, and your cathartic beatdown on him with barbed wire, and even a knife to the stomach, fail to kill him. Unfortunately, you don't know this, and although your communique to Locus on your eloquent dispatchment of him is met with little but mild disdain, you consider the whole thing rather a success.

 

It's unfortunate that a later message will be intercepted by Command. Almost exactly one year after you remove Soda Pop from your list of targets, you are dishonourably discharged from the army on charges of – well, you're not quite sure, but the routine using of dead bodies of your allies as target practice may have helped.

 

Your name is Felix, and you celebrate your twenty-third birthday with a slightly squished red velvet cale and a ticket on a spaceship heading off to a remote planet where you can never be tried for your crimes against humanity. It bears the name Chorus, and you have the distinct displeasure of partnering up with your old rival when you get there, a fact mollified not one bit by your team of Space Pirates you have recruited for this mission.

 

A coin flip determines your respective new jobs. Locus is to head over to the Federal Army of Chorus, and you have the distinct pleasure of hooking up with the New Republic, headed by General Maria Rostov at the time. She's quite cordial and polite, but  she treats you with suspicion, and it's somewhat more than you're willing to deal with.

 

Six months after your arrival, Locus shoots her dead in the middle of a battle over one of the temples. She is succeeded by Aaron Cohen, a nervous former Navy captain who is much more willing to act to your best interests.

 

Your name is Felix, you are twenty six years old, and you have just finished killing your fifth leader of the Federal Army. It's rather cathartic, as you'd been allowed to interrogate her after the New Republic managed to get the drop on the Feds. You force a cyanide pill down her throat and neatly bandage the belt of barbed wire you put around her waist before coming out of the room and acting tired, defeated, and bitter. Your third leader, the former lieutenant of Cohen, asks what happened. You spin the honest truth - she had a cyanide pill hidden in her armour (true) and had tried to swallow it after Felix had begun to crack her (also true, but you stopped her quickly), and that it just happened so quickly (very true.) You offer to burn the body, and nobody makes a fuss about it. There's something to be said for a lack of formality.

 

A few years later, you shoot this leader out of the sky after she figures out that the best way to end the war is to get help. Honestly, these generals need to stop telling charismatic mercenaries all their plans. At least this new leader, Kimball, is easily manipulated and fiercely devoted. You won't have any problems with her.

 

Your name is Felix, and when you are twenty-eight, a ship crashes and leaves survivors on this planet for the first time since you have arrived. Your first instinct – to kill them brutally and quickly – is shot down by Locus, leaving you two to take them for your respective armies. For your part, you think this is a horrible plan, especially after you get shot in the foot because of it. When you bring four soldiers instead of the requested eight to Commander Kimball, you get half off your latest commission. This is when you decided that somebody needs to die very soon.

 

Your name is Felix, and you get your wish when the first three members of the newly formed "Blue Team" die in a horrible explosion. The new ones are much more likeable, and Kimball allowed one of her closest confidantes on as a lieutenant.

 

Things are working out nicely for you for once in your life. Your name is Felix, and you have just seen the four most annoying thorns in your side leave on some bullshit mission to save their friends. This, you decide, is a good time to finally get rid of them.

 

You love your job.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also thanks to GollyGamma, who helped to edit this fic and also has had a hand in a lot of my headcanons for Felix and Locus. If you need clarification or something, please ask – I'd be more than happy to share.


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